Bonnie Chau
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Last week I suddenly found myself eating breakfast cereal with a
plastic fork. Not even a spork, but a fork. If you’ve never
tried eating cereal with a fork, you should consider yourself
lucky. I was counting myself unlucky while sitting in a chair a
foot too low for our dining table, rendering me about eye level
with my bowl. And fork.
About this time, I started wondering when my roommates and I
would finally invest in a complete silverware set (by
“complete” I mean one that has spoons). Sure we had
remembered to bring all the essentials, like posters, yoga mats and
lava lamps, but some non-plastic utensils sure would have been nice
(because despite what they say, it’s even harder to eat
cereal with a lava lamp than with a fork. Yeah. My logic is
astounding huh?)
Having been in my new apartment for almost a month now, I feel
the need to share some Potentially Helpful Stuff:
Things I would have liked to have brought: non-plastic utensils,
vacuum, broom, mop and toaster.
Things I’m really glad my roommates and I brought (or
bought within the first two days): toilet paper, paper towels,
bowls, plates, cups, a stereo system, phone, microwave, water
purifier, pots, pans, chairs, dishwashing liquid, lamps, toilet
plunger, bathroom rugs, alarm clock, bed, tacks, scissors, alcohol,
tape, hammer and nails, screwdriver and wrench.
With the PHS out of the way, I feel the need to share some more
interesting stuff:
Make sure you know about your building’s party policy. We
threw a small housewarming party the weekend after we moved in. Our
landlord then claimed we had 70-90 people present and threatened to
terminate our lease.
Just because you see a piece of furniture without obvious sex
stains on it thrown out on the sidewalk, it doesn’t
necessarily mean it’s perfect for your apartment. We dragged
up a red velvet couch from Levering Heights and it ended up not
fitting through our doorway.
If you have a boy subletting with you for the summer ““
half the parents would throw their daughters into a convent if only
they knew ““ establish an excuse for his omnipresence when you
first move in (like he’s your roommate’s boyfriend) and
make sure he’s not the one recording the answering machine
greeting.
Check the door locks when you first move in to see which ones
lock from the inside or outside so nobody gets locked out on a
fourth floor balcony and has to find some way down, wearing Big
Bird-feet-shaped flip flops.
Having a television is really not necessary. We have a gigantic
13-inch set, on which we can only watch ABC ““ and sometimes
that’s even slightly fuzzy ““ but it plays movies fine
with a VCR. There is always more amusing drama to watch in real
life anyway.
In other news, our fireplace mysteriously stopped working after
the party and our dishwasher exploded and spewed foaming bubbles
into our kitchen sometime last week. We’re already using our
second microwave, stuff drips every time we have the air
conditioning on for an extended length of time, and we’ve had
a scary toilet experience with one bathroom. In addition,
we’ve had an only-burning-hot-or-freezing-cold shower
experience (followed by a broken plastic hot-and-cold knob).
Not only do our dining table chairs match neither the table nor
each other, but two of them are only about two feet tall. We still
don’t know how to use the intercom to buzz people up. We have
three phones and two dueling answering machines. Apparently they
are each set to answer calls after a different number of rings but
both pick up at the same time and it’s pretty much mass
confusion. As of this moment (remember, it’s been about a
month since I’ve moved in) two of five people in the
apartment have beds. And our smoke alarm goes off every time we use
the oven.
Nonetheless, or maybe all the more, apartment life kicks ass,
sea bass.